


Bossy Git

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dubcon play, M/M, Pushy Sherlock, Sexy Sherlock, Sexy gay sex, Sherlock is a Brat, Top Greg Lestrade, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock shows up one night on Greg's front stoop...soaked to the bone and tired. </p><p>The porn starts in chapter two...don't kill me!</p><p>So this story will run through my own personal dub-con play list. Daddy kink, Prostitution, interrogation play..... It's all consentual, but will be played as dub con. </p><p>If you have a suggestion for a dubcon chapter let me know in the comments, your wet dream might come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For my gorgeous ginger8lee and yarnjunkie....enjoy!

It had been a long day. They finally found the kidnapped children, with no help from Sherlock, and got them home by the end of the night. He'd been running on a dangerous mix of coffee, adrenaline and nicotine for what felt like weeks, but was probably only days. The only sleep he'd got had been multiple cat naps on his desk. He was falling asleep in front of the telly when a loud knock came at his door. 

He looked up, eyes blurry and saw a dark figure peer in through the window. Fuck. He stood and walked to the door, steeling himself before opening it. 

Sherlock stood shivering, skin as pale as Greg had ever seen it. The older man moved back with a sigh. Sherlock walked in and shed his soaking coat to reveal a white shirt and black slacks, also dripping with water. He looked up at Greg like a lost puppy and the detective's heart broke. 

"Jesus, Sherlock, what have you done this time?" He asked. 

Sherlock frowned and started removing his shoes. "I didn't do ANYTHING! I've been walking around all night avoiding my dealer because some overbearing arsehole thinks my addiction is compromising my work!" 

Sherlock's bottom lip began to shake and Greg grabbed his hand. 

"Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes." He said, dragging Sherlock to the bathroom. 

He turned on the tap while Sherlock undressed and tried not to look. When the tub was half full Sherlock got in and Greg sat down on a towel next to the bath. He poured soap out onto a loofah and rubbed circles on Sherlock's back. Sherlock sighed deeply and his shivering soon subsided. 

"Do you think I'm disgusting?" He asked at length. 

Greg dropped the loofah and pulled on his chin so he could look him in the eyes. "Why would you think that?" 

"Because I'm a junkie and you're an upstanding member of society." He hissed, anger covering his fear poorly. 

"Hey, you WERE a junkie. You've been clean for how long now?" Greg asked. 

"Fourteen months." Sherlock replied quietly. 

"You're doing so well. I'm proud of you, Sher. Don't ever think any different, okay? Everybody has a hard day every once in a while." Greg said, rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's cheek. "Now finish your bath, I'm gonna make tea." 

Sherlock nodded and slipped under the water to wet his hair. Greg stifled a moan when standing up changed his vantage point and he got a sobering look at the boy's body. He wasn't a boy. He was very much a man. Christ. 

\-----

After Sherlock was out of the bath Greg brought him something to sleep in and a cup of tea. He started to bring a pillow and blanket out from the bedroom, but Sherlock stopped him. 

"Don't be silly, Lestrade. We can share the bed." He said, grabbing the pillow and walking into the bedroom. 

Greg hated himself for it, but agreed and followed him in. Sherlock lay on the left side, and after moving from foot to foot for a second Greg climbed in next to him. 

He was almost asleep when Sherlock wrapped his arm around him and whispered 'goodnight' against his chest. 

It was the first time since his marriage was destroyed that he'd had someone to share a bed with. Sherlock's bony body curled against him and Greg fell asleep with a warmth in his belly he'd missed for so long. Sherlock snored against him softly, long into the night. 

\-----

The next morning Greg woke to find Sherlock wrapped completely around him. He wondered quickly how he was able to sleep that way. He woke Sherlock by gently shaking his shoulder. He looked like he was made of porcelain in the early morning light. 

Sherlock stretched and Greg got up for a quick shower. He'd cleaned off and was about to rinse his hair when Sherlock stepped in unannounced. He did so with such a casual air that Greg wondered if he was the only one made uncomfortable by the situation. 

He walked quickly from the room after rinsing his hair and wrapping himself in a terry cloth robe. He filled the kettle, switched it on and leaned against the cooktop. He heard the bathroom door open and Sherlock's soft footsteps approaching, but couldn't bring himself to turn. 

Sherlock was suddenly pressed up against his back, skin warm and damp from the shower, breathing against his neck. 

"Oh, Jesus!" He shouted, turning and clearing his throat. "You scared me!" 

"Let's be honest, detective, the last thing you were feeling was fear." Sherlock purred, suddenly miles away from the soaked boy who'd shown up on his doorstep the night before. 

"Sherlock, look, this isn't-" Greg began. 

Sherlock pressed up against him and rolled his hips. 

"Oh, Christ!" Greg shouted. 

Sherlock placed his hands on either side of Greg, boxing him in, and crushed his lips against the older man's. Greg let him lick into his mouth, moaning against his eager tongue. Thoughts were spinning through his mind. This was wrong. This was just another case of Sherlock bloody Holmes trying to get a reaction. 

He drew back abruptly. "Stop, Sherlock. You don't really want this. Just stop." 

Sherlock snarled and grabbed the detective's wrist, gripping tight. 

"What makes you think you know what I want? You've never asked! I've tried to show you, but you never look at me!" Sherlock growled. 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Greg replied with a little more anger that was needed. 

"The Christmas party at the yard? Darts night at the Fox and Hound? Every time I've ever showed up at your door at two am? Are you really that stupid?" Sherlock said, glaring as if he was really offended. 

"Sherlock, I just, I just thought you needed someone, I didn't think you really..." Greg began. 

"You don't think, that's the problem!" Sherlock hissed. 

"Oi! Quit insulting me while you're trying to get into my pants!" Greg shouted. 

Sherlock smiled. "So you DO understand." 

Greg found his palms sweating. He was about to ask if Sherlock wanted a ride home when the younger man dipped back in for a kiss. Greg let him, tentatively wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock growled and pushed his hands lower, letting the towel fall to the floor. 

Greg moaned at the soft skin, gripping Sherlock's arse and pulling his cheeks apart. Sherlock broke away and kissed down his neck as Greg pressed a dry finger against his hole. Sherlock whimpered and thrust his hips back. 

"Bossy git!" Greg said, laughing softly. 

Sherlock ran his hands up Greg back and the older man shivered. 

"Take me to bed, Lestrade." Sherlock said. 

Greg stilled for a second and then nodded, walking the gorgeous, naked, impossible man to his bedroom. Sherlock crawled onto the bed like a wild cat and presented his arse, wiggling it back and forth in the air. Fucking hell.


	2. Cat Got Your Tongue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell.

Greg walked to the bed, shedding his robe on the way and licking his lips. He climbed up and slapped Sherlock's arse. Sherlock yelped and wiggled his hips again. 

"As much as I just want to sink into that-" Greg started. 

Sherlock sighed. "I'm clean, I'm not a virgin, I'm not asexual and yes, I want this. Happy?" 

Greg slapped him again. "Don't you ever let anyone finish a-" 

"No, get on with it Lestrade!" Sherlock bit out. 

Greg bit into one of Sherlock's cheeks and Sherlock moaned. He grabbed his arse and pulled his cheeks apart, licking a wet stripe from his perineum to his cleft. Sherlock whimpered loudly. 

"Look at you, so desperate for someone to stuff you full of cock!" Greg teased. 

Sherlock was about to respond when Greg got back to licking his hole. He spit on it and rubbed his thumb against Sherlock's twitching hole, the crudeness of the gesture making Sherlock curse. Sherlock squirmed when Greg stood up, but he soon saw that he was only retrieving a condom and some lube. 

Greg climbed back onto the bed and dropped the condom at his side, slicking up his fingers and teasing Sherlock's hole. He pushed the tip of his forefinger in and held it there. When Sherlock realised he wasn't going to move he started to push himself back on it. 

"That's it, show me how much you want my fingers inside you." Greg said, voice low and rough. 

"Did you learn that line from a porno?" Sherlock asked. 

He tried for boredom, but he was breathy and desperate so he failed horribly. Greg chuckled and pushed a second finger in. Sherlock whimpered and he watched as the younger man's hole gripped him tightly. 

"You like it when I talk like that, admit it!" Greg said. 

Sherlock snorted and Greg pulled his fingers out. 

"I-I-I like it when you ta-talk like that!" Sherlock stammered. 

"Good boy." Greg said pushing his fingers back in. 

Sherlock moaned loudly and Greg scissored his fingers. 

"You moan like a whore." He said. 

"And you tease like a bastard." Sherlock shot back. 

Greg poured more lube onto his fingers and added a third, angling his hand and curling his fingers to brush across Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock whimpered and bucked his hips. 

"Maybe you should have some more respect." Greg said. "I could go on like this for hours. It's my day off, should I just milk you till you're dry?" 

"I-I'm sorry...sir!" Sherlock whimpered. 

"That's more like it!" Greg growled. 

He pulled his fingers out, cleaning his hand on the discarded robe, and slipped on the condom. Sherlock was dripping precome onto the sheets and panting audibly. Greg pushed him aside and crawled to the head of the bed, sitting back against the headboard and grinning. 

"I'm not gonna do any of the work. Let's just say it's payment for making my work life a living hell." He said. 

Sherlock frowned but moved up the bed. He positioned himself facing away from Greg and the older man slapped his arse hard. 

"No, turn around. I want to see your face as you bounce up and down on my cock."

Sherlock straddled Lestrade, holding his cock and slowly working his way down. He shivered and whimpered loudly. Greg moaned and let his head fall back. Sherlock, in an attempt to keep himself from coming right away, started to talk. 

"You haven't fucked a man in ten years. You forgot how tight an arsehole can be." He said, voice weak with lust. "You've wanted me since the day you met me, but you think of yourself as my caretaker so you never acted on it. You've been desperate to fuck me." 

Greg breathed deeply and looked up. "Enough deductions, move!" 

Sherlock pulled up slowly and then slid back down. They moaned in unison and Greg's eyes slid closed again. Sherlock was right, of course, he'd wanted him from day one. There was something about him that Greg wanted. Something he'd always dreamed of taking. Christ he felt good. 

"What's the matter, detective? Cat got your tongue?" Sherlock chided. 

Greg grunted and thrust up into him. "You really are a bastard, you know that, should have guessed you'd be a lousy bottom." 

Sherlock chuckled and held Greg's shoulders, finally riding him in earnest. 

"Yes, you really should have." He laughed. 

Some of the sting was taken out of his words by how hard he was breathing and how his fingers dug into Greg's skin. 

"You want me to talk? Okay, let's have a chat. You, Sherlock Holmes, are the most selfish, demanding, infuriating brat I've ever met. And all I ever want when I see you about to walk into my office is to gag you with my tie and push you down on my desk. I want to pull down those expensive trousers and bugger you until you're crying for me to stop." Greg said. 

Sherlock was chanting 'yes, yes' and had obviously found his prostate. He moved in short little rolls of the hips and shut his eyes tight. 

"I'm sick of you and your entitled attitude. If you want to come you'll have to jerk yourself, you'll get no help from me!"

Like magic, Sherlock gripped his own cock and started stroking. He came seconds later with a gasp. Greg sat up and pushed him onto his back as his hole spasmed. He pulled his legs over his shoulders and fucked him deeply. Sherlock started to whimper and Greg thrust harder. 

"Tell me you've had enough. Beg me to come!" Greg demanded. 

"That's enough! Please stop!" Sherlock whimpered. 

Greg stilled inside him and came hard, gripping Sherlock's thighs and grunting. After a few seconds he pulled out. Sherlock whined at the sudden loss and Greg chuckled. 

He walked to the bathroom, tossed the condom in the bin and got a flannel wet. He cleaned himself, then went back to the bed to clean Sherlock. The boy was almost boneless. 

Greg lay down next to him and pulled himself against his body. He was drifting off, sunlight warming his back, when Sherlock spoke. 

"I'll be expecting you to fuck me at least five times a week, unless I'm on a case." He said weakly. 

Greg kissed his neck. "Yeah, I like you too."


	3. We'll Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, yeah, this is gonna get kinkier by the day!

Greg and Sherlock got into a pattern, they would have sex for days in a row when Sherlock's boredom was driving him crazy, then not for days while they were working. At this point Sherlock wasn't taking any private cases, so Greg didn't mind, being knackered himself. Sherlock was usually at home when they weren't at a crime scene, or out talking to his homeless network. Greg gave him his space without trying to. It worked for a while. 

One night Sherlock showed up at half two, shit faced and stumbling. Greg opened the door and walked him to the couch. 

"What's the occasion?" Greg asked, pouring a glass of water and wetting a flannel. 

"Case." Sherlock said, tripping over the carpet after trying to stand up and faceplanting. 

"Jesus!" Greg shouted. 

He ran over and helped Sherlock, who was giggling furiously, up and to the bed. He brought in the water, flannel and a few paracetamols. Sherlock took them and drank the water eagerly, then sighed and lay back on the bed. 

Greg took the glass from him, glad it was empty and not spilled on the duvet, and started to remove the younger man's clothes. Sherlock lifted his hips so Greg could pull his trousers off and let Greg carefully remove his shirt. Once Sherlock's clothes were folded and set to the side Greg frowned down at him and sat on the bed. 

"Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeg!" Sherlock whined. "Touch me!" 

Greg shivered at the sheer want in his voice but refused to move. 

"Please!" Sherlock added. 

"Not on a case. You told me, not on a case." Greg replied, voice unsteady and pants getting tight. 

Sherlock rolled over and crawled towards him on his hands and knees. He grinned a wide frightening grin and licked his lips. He slid onto Greg's lap and ground down on his cock. 

"Jesus! Sherlock, Sherlock I think you'd better go home." He said, not wanting to cross a line when Sherlock couldn't think straight. 

Sherlock rolled his hips again and moved in close to Greg's ear. "C'mon officer, don't you wanna cuff me?" 

Greg stood, knocking Sherlock back onto the bed and picked up his pillow. He went into the closet and got out a blanket as well. 

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch. Get some rest." He said, walking out of the room and closing the door. 

He lay down on the couch and shucked his pants, running a hand down his stomach and gripping his cock. He was already hard. There was nothing that could happen that would keep a writhing Sherlock in your lap from leading to an erection. Nothing. 

He stroked himself and closed his eyes, remembering the way Sherlock's breath felt on his neck. Jesus, he was a sexy drunk. The idea made his skin crawl and his cock get harder. Funny how you find out what turns you on out of the blue sometimes. He sped up his hand and gripped tighter, other hand sliding down to his bollocks and squeezing gently. 

He thought of Sherlock on his knees, Sherlock on his back, Sherlock calling his name, and came hard. It was embarrassing coming in your own hand when your lover was in the other room, but Greg was a stand up guy. He'd never cross a line, especially one that was begging to be crossed. That was just asking for trouble. 

\-----

Greg woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs. He blinked and sat up, looking around confused. Sherlock bound into the room and sat in his lap. 

"It was the butler! Funny, I know, but I swear it was the butler! How many cases do you get where it's actually the butler?" He asked animatedly. 

"Are you making breakfast?" Greg asked. 

Sherlock shot up and rushed to the stove. He stirred something and then poured it onto a plate. Greg got up, stretching and sat at the table. The mass looked like hell, but the smell was devine. 

"I didn't know where another pan was so I cooked everything together. Looks like shite, I know, but you won't get food poisoning." Sherlock said. 

Greg took a bite and it was impressive. Leave it up to Sherlock Holmes to make a simple fry up into an experiment. Greg ate quickly and then rested his head against the table. Sherlock tossed his plate in the sink and shook his shoulder. 

"Hmm?" Greg asked. 

"I just, I know I was a mess last night. And you didn't take advantage. So thanks for that." Sherlock said quietly. 

Greg looked up and smiled at him, pulling the younger man into his lap kissing his neck gently. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and laughed. 

"So?" Greg asked. "If this isn't all about sex I think I've something to ask you." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"Let me have this little bit of normalcy, please." Greg said. 

"Fine." Sherlock grumbled. 

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Greg asked, stomach doing little flips. 

"I suppose so." Sherlock said. 

"Once again with feeling." Greg teased. 

"Gee, Greg, can I wear your class ring and everything? Will you take me to the school dance?" Sherlock chirped. 

"If only. I'd kill to have you on my arm, dressed to the nines, smelling like sin. God you'd look good draped across me!" Greg said, running his hands up Sherlock's sides. 

"I'm not a Bond girl." Sherlock protested. 

"No, you're more like a villian. All sleek and dangerous." 

"All the villians are idiots! Don't talk to him about killing him, just toss him in the shark tank! I swear, if they cut out all the exposition those movies would be ten minutes long!" Sherlock said emphatically. 

"No, you're much smarter than that...did you solve the case?" Greg said, nosing Sherlock's neck. 

"I told you it was the butler!" Sherlock said. 

"So does that mean we get to have sex?" Greg asked coyly. 

"Oh, officer, I don't think I could stop you." Sherlock said in a high feminine voice. 

Greg growled and bit his neck. "I don't think you'll even try!" He said. 

Greg stood and Sherlock kept his legs wrapped around the detective. He walked them to the bedroom and lay him back on the bed. Sherlock pulled his own shirt off and started in on his pajama trousers and pants while Greg pulled his own clothes off. When they were both bare Greg took a moment to look Sherlock over. Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms. 

"Waxing romantic in your head is wasting my time." He said, trying for put upon and almost pulling it off. 

"Just be glad I don't say it out loud, brat!" Greg said, flipping Sherlock over and spanking his arse. 

"That's more like it! Oh!" Sherlock said, breath starting to come in little puffs. 

Greg slapped him again. "It really is a shame how much you like this." He said teasingly. 

"Almost as much as you like playing the aggressor, officer." Sherlock said, dragging the last word out in a hiss. "Who do you want me to be today? Generic bad guy? Strung out rent boy? Hooker with a heart of go-old?" Sherlock said, voice catching at the end when an especially hard smack came. 

"How about annoying know it all that won't stop deducing me in bed?" Greg asked rhetorically. 

Sherlock flipped over and looked him right in the eye, pupils blown and lips red. 

"Do you want to shut me up, Greg? Will use use your cock? Put my mouth to good use?" Sherlock asked quickly. 

"Fuck!" Greg gasped. 

"If you don't come in your pants first." Sherlock said with a snort. 

Greg walked to the dresser and took out his cuffs. He dragged Sherlock up the bed forcefully, delighting in the sudden look of surprise, whether faked or not and cuffed him to the headboard. 

"Oh, look who's finally grown a pair!" Sherlock teased. 

Greg shoved his favorite tie into Sherlock's mouth and smiled down at him. Sherlock struggled to push it out with his tongue but failed. Greg's smile widened. 

"God you're pretty when you're quiet!" He purred. "Such a pretty boy." 

Sherlock shivered and his cock dripped a fat drop of precome down its side. 

"Fucking gorgeous." Greg said. "An' you like when I tell you, too. You like it when I give you compliments, you don't want to, but you do. The truth is that you want me to wax romantic. You want me to tell you how good you feel on my cock, and what a pretty one you have yourself." 

A flush creeped up Sherlock's chest and reached to lick at the tips of his ears. 

"Look at you, sweating like a cornered nun." Greg laughed. "You want to play whore so you won't be pressured to act virginal, but every time I tell you what I really want from you I see you blush. You can have it both ways, princess." Greg whispered. 

He reached to the bedside table and pulled out the lube and a condom. He dripped some lube onto his fingers and stroked Sherlock's cock once. Sherlock thrust up into his first and closed his eyes tight. 

"That's it, good boy! " Greg whispered. 

Sherlock moaned, the sound coming out garbled through the silk. 

" Now I'm gonna tell you a secret. You can be the virgin and a dirty little slut at the same time. Wanna know how?" Greg asked, reaching down to Sherlock's bollocks. 

Sherlock nodded feverishly. 

Greg licked his lips slowly, and then up the side of Sherlock's face. He rubbed below Sherlock's bollocks to his hole, delighting in the full body shiver. 

"We're gonna play our special game, ok?" Greg asked gently. 

Sherlock had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded, curiosity overwhelming him at this point. 

"And you'll be a good boy and won't tell mommy?" Greg added. 

Sherlock's eyes got wide for a moment and then he nodded. 

"Daddy's gonna take his tie out of your mouth now, but you won't be loud, will you?" Greg asked, pushing the tip of his finger into Sherlock's hole. 

Sherlock shook his head and Greg reached up, pulling the soaked silk from his mouth. Sherlock drew in a deep breath. Moment of truth then. 

"And why do we keep the game secret from mommy?" Greg asked. 

"Because she'd be jealous of how much you love your little boy?" Sherlock whispered. 

Jesus, that did things to Greg! 

"Yeah, baby, cause I love you more." Greg replied, pushing the second finger in. 

Sherlock, who was usually quite the screamer, was making little bitty 'ooh's and 'ah's. Greg was surprised by how well he was taking to a little role play. He'd been right about Greg liking to be in charge, but it wasn't just that. Greg wanted the other half too, he wanted Sherlock to pretend to be out of control. 

He didn't really care how, and Sherlock knew. The bastard knew without asking that he got off on pretending to take what wasn't his. For a long time he thought it made him a bad person. He thought that it was something he needed to keep to himself. 

Leave it up to Sherlock bloody Holmes to deduce his fucking kink. Little shit! Well, Greg decided, if he wants to play, we'll play.


	4. Too Bloody Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I tried to write just porn, I really did. I don't know what happened, but all this angst and awkwardness leaked in. Yarnjunkie gave me the courage to post the chapter so, good on you baby, good on you.

Sherlock choked out moan as Greg pushed a third finger in. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry daddy!" He whispered, eyebrows knit tightly. 

"It's okay, buddy, it's okay." Greg replied soothingly. 

Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes. Greg pulled his fingers out and unwrapped the condom, slipping it on and gripping the base of his cock to try and put some time between now and his ever approaching orgasm. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked right at him. Fucking Christ he could act. 

"I won't tell." He whispered. 

Greg whimpered and held his cock just inside Sherlock's waiting hole. It was too much. He was going to come right then and there. How bloody embarrassing, Sherlock finally does something he's always wanted in bed and he can't keep it together. 

Sherlock reached up and held onto Greg's hand. Greg shook himself from his thoughts and saw that Sherlock had stopped the playacting for a moment. 

"Breathe Greg." He said calmly. 

Greg did, breathing choked sobs through his nose. 

"If you want to come now you can. I won't hold it against you." The younger man said. 

It was bloody unfair that he was able to keep his cool when Greg was fucking falling apart. Who the hell keeps their cool with a cock up their arse? 

"No, just, um, give me a second." Greg said. 

Sherlock smiled gently at him and Greg pushed in slowly. When he stilled he felt a small bit of control, so he looked down at Sherlock and nodded. Sherlock was panting hard and biting his lip. He nodded back. 

"Oh. Oh, yes." He whispered. 

Greg pulled out and then pushed back in, breathing more stable. Fuck, it felt good. Fuck. 

"That's a good boy." He sighed, building up a languid rhythm. 

"I'll be good." Sherlock said, eyes closed tightly and skin covered in a sheen of sweat. 

"You like my cock don't you?" Greg asked, getting a bit more confident. 

"Yes, daddy! I love it!" Sherlock panted. 

"How much, honey?" Greg asked, speeding up his thrusts and trying to angle his hips to brush against Sherlock's prostate. 

"So much! More than anything! Oh, I'm gonna..." Sherlock said, voice turning into a low growl. 

Greg pulled his legs over his shoulders and fucked him roughly, feeling like his muscles might give out if he didn't come soon. 

"Go ahead, buddy, you can come for daddy!" Greg urged. 

Sherlock came with a shout, painting his own stomach with come. Greg was close, so close to coming. Frustratingly close. If he could just get there. 

Sherlock reached up and gripped his hand. 

"Daddy, please it's too much!" He gasped. 

Greg had the startlingly real feeling of free fall. When he was a child he'd fallen from a tree and broke his leg. This was exactly like that. He was coming hard, cock pulsing in Sherlock and he knew it should feel good. 

It did, only fleetingly so though. It was a kind of far away good. Like when you have too much cake and you only realise it when you start to feel sick. And you want to turn back time just five seconds so you don't take that last bite. You want to be satisfied and now you're sick. 

He fell down on top of Sherlock, eyes glassy and far away. All the adrenalin of the situation had turned on its head and was now telling him he was in danger. Why was that? He felt, oh, Jesus, guilty. Oh, fuck. 

"Greg!" Sherlock shouted, shaking his shoulders. "Lestrade!" 

Greg looked up and Sherlock pulled him close. 

"I'm sorry, did I, did I hurt you?" Greg asked nervously. 

Sherlock ran his hand over Greg's back. "Shhh. You didn't hurt me, I'm fine. I was acting, it was just a game." 

Greg choked out a sob and Sherlock rolled him onto his back. 

"Greg, look at me, look at me." Sherlock pleaded. "You didn't hurt me, I'm fine. When I said it was too much I was pretending. Jesus, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted me to, fuck, I'm sorry." 

Greg shook himself and kissed Sherlock hard. Sherlock was shaking too now, the both of them feeling like idiots. Greg kissed the sides of his face and down his neck and then lay him down and stood. 

"I'm gonna." He said, gesturing to the bathroom. 

Sherlock nodded and watched him walk away. He used an old shirt he found on the ground to wipe himself off and waited nervously for Greg to come back. 

Fuck. He'd really fucked it up this time. Sherlock 'I should fuck things up for a living' Holmes strikes again, folks. Just when he had something good going he had to push it too far. He wished he were different. He wished he did things halfway. He wished he could appreciate Greg casually instead of wanting so badly to make him happy. 

Why did he always have to make everyone uncomfortable? Bad enough he was a dick to everyone, but when he tries to make up for it he does this. He'd never know the balance. He'd never understand how far was too far. He'd never get it. 

Greg walked out of the bathroom with something in his hand, probably Sherlock's wallet. He'd ask Sherlock to leave now. Maybe he thought Sherlock was making fun of him. Maybe he thought Sherlock was teasing him after noticing what he liked. Fuck. 

"Here." Greg said gently pushing Sherlock back from his sitting position and using the flannel (stupid, obvious) to clean the younger man's stomach. 

Sherlock lay there wondering when the other shoe we going to fall. Greg tossed the flannel to the side of the bed and sat down. 

"We need to talk, Sherlock." Greg said quietly. 

Sherlock sat up, even as his stomach dropped. Greg turned to him and grasped his hand. 

"I didn't think to, and that's my fault, and I'm sorry I'd didn't." Greg started. "We need to go over a few things." 

"Maybe instead of 'going over a few things' you should have just told me to leave. Save us both the embarrassment." Sherlock shot back. 

"Sherlock I'm not, I'm not asking you to leave." Greg started. 

Sherlock's frown intensified and Greg saw his bottom lip quiver. 

"Jesus, Sherlock, I don't want you to leave." Greg said desperately. "I just, I feel foolish for not asking about your boundaries. You're just, just too bloody good at acting. I don't know when it's real and not. We should have set up a safeword because you're turning out to be quite brilliant at scaring the shit out of me." 

Sherlock smiled a little as a tear ran down his cheek. 

"Fuck, I've fucked it all up. I just want to make sure I don't hurt you or whatnot. I need to know you're safe. Okay?" Greg asked, brushing the tear away. "What you did was, well, outstanding. You're just too bloody fantastic an actor, Jesus, come 'ere!" 

Greg pulled Sherlock into a hug and kissed his hair gently. Sherlock choked a sob and closed his eyes tightly. 

"You were so good to know when I needed a minute to stop, and then you told me it was too much and I didn't know whether you meant it, but it was too late and I was coming. And then fuck, I thought I'd hurt you, and I'm not as smart as you, okay? I'll never be as good at reading people. You'll always be one step ahead, so I need this. I need you to tell me a word you can say when it really is too much. Because if I ever hurt you I'd just, I'd just bloody kill myself. Okay?" Greg said, exhausted by the revelation. 

Sherlock sat back and smiled weakly. "I thought I'd ruined it. I just did what I thought you'd want." 

Greg smiled and stroked his cheek. "Of course you did, genius. Fucking gorgeous bastard." 

Sherlock breathed deeply and lay back on the bed. "I think I might need to sleep." 

Greg lay down next to him and pulled him close. "Yeah, me too." He said. 

\-----

They slept like that until lunchtime and then Greg got up and made them food. He brought a tray to the bed and woke Sherlock with a kiss. 

"Wake up, love." He whispered. 

Sherlock stretched and sat up. He scrunched his nose up and popped a crisp in his mouth. 

"Soup. No one makes me soup unless I'm sick. Well, no one makes me soup anymore even if I am sick." Sherlock said, eyeing the tray suspiciously. 

"Do you not want soup?" Greg asked. 

Sherlock looked up at him and grabbed the tray. 

"I want the soup. Don't take the soup." He said quickly. 

Greg chuckled and let him have it. Sherlock ate a spoonful and sighed. 

"Oh, that's good." He said, having another. 

Greg patted his thigh and picked up his own bowl, settling in next to the best/worst thing that'd ever happened to him. Glorious.


	5. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's try this again......  
> Relationship negotioation-ish-ness. Um.... Porn for yarnjunkie

After they'd eaten the soup Greg brought the bowls into the kitchen and did the cleaning up. Sherlock lay in bed, wondering what kinds of questions Greg was going to ask him and what kinds of answers would be appropriate. When Greg walked back into the bedroom, wiping his hands on a towel Sherlock felt a new surge of arousal swim through him. He jumped up and pressed Greg against the wall. Greg dropped the towel and gasped as Sherlock pressed his lips to his and pushed his tongue into his mouth. He pushed Sherlock back and tried, really tried, to frown at him.

"Sherlock. I told you we needed-" He began.

"Red. You can do whatever you want to me." Sherlock replied latching onto Greg's neck and sucking hard.

"That's, that's ridiculous! Anything? You can't mean that." Greg replied, voice shaky.

Sherlock dropped to his knees and looked up. Greg swallowed hard.

"I know what you want, Lestrade. You want illusion. You want make-believe. You want to pretend that you are going to take advantage of me, but you'd never really hurt me. The safeword is for your own comfort, not mine. Now fuck my mouth like you mean it!" Sherlock demanded.

Greg huffed a laugh and reached down the to grip Sherlock's hair. "Red? Really?"

"What, red is perfectly reasonable. Did you think I'd pick some three syllable word with two different meanings? You're wasting my time." Sherlock replied, lips swollen and glistening.

"Well, fuck, God forbid." Greg said, pulling down his pants and shoving his cock into Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock sucked it in and began bobbing his head quickly. He let Greg's prick push against the back of his throat with more pressure than Greg would ever be able to handle. It felt fucking fantastic! When he saw the way things were going Greg gripped his hair tighter and began fucking his face in earnest. Sherlock reached under his chin and gripped his bollocks a bit too tight.

"Christ!" Greg shouted.

Sherlock grinned up at him and began to roll them gently in his hand. Greg moaned and Sherlock pushed all the way down, holding his face to Greg's body and swallowing roughly. Greg cursed and came into him. Sherlock smiled around the pulsing cock in his mouth and gulped it down. So much for Greg being in control. Fuck.

Greg closed his eyes and lay his head against the wall as Sherlock stroked himself to completion on the floor.

\-----

Three days later Greg was working on a particularly hard case. He'd texted Sherlock to come in and help, but hadn't heard back from him. Time was running out, and he was starting to get a little worried as to the outcome. All he needed was one break, one little glimpse into the perpetrator's mind, to crack the case. He was so fucking close.

His office door swung open and Donovan came in angrily.

"Sir, freak's here to see you. I think he's high." She said.

Sherlock pushed past her and dropped a brown paper bag on Greg's desk. He snarled at her and her eyes grew wide.

"I'm as high as you are a good police officer!" He shouted.

"That's enough! Sally, thank you, and if that'll be all, close the door." Greg said sternly.

Sally slammed it like a bloody teenager and Sherlock spun around.

"What the fuck is going on? I've been texting you for days!" Greg asked, walking around to the door, locking it and closing the blinds.

Sherlock opened the brown paper bag and dumped it's contents onto Greg's desk. As far as Greg could tell it was a bunch of rocks and mud. Bloody wonderful.

"And what is this?" Greg asked.

"It's really a pity that I have to do your job for you." Sherlock said with a cruel grin.

"Oh, fuck off!" Greg said.

Sherlock crossed his arms and frowned, turning his head to the side and ignoring Greg's little outburst. That did it. That was what broke him in the end. Sherlock had been out of touch for three days and now he was waltzing in like nothing happened. He needed to be taught a lesson.

"Take off your trousers and pants." Greg said quietly.

"What-" Sherlock began.

"No, shut your damn mouth and strip! You've got a bloody safeword, use it if you want." Greg said roughly.

Sherlock looked to be weighing his options for a moment and then removed everything from the waist down. The fucker was already hard. Greg grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to his desk. He bent him over it and reached into his jacket pocket to feel around for the lube he knew Sherlock kept on him.

He found it and ripped the tab off with his teeth before drizzling some on his hand and spreading Sherlock's cheeks. As he began to push the first finger in Sherlock started to talk.

"Right on your desk, Lestrade? What would your therapist say about that? Grasping for some kind of control over your life? Is that it?" Sherlock said teasingly.

"I don't need you to talk right now, just shut up." Greg said, shoving another finger into the glistening hole.

"Or what?" Sherlock asked. "Are you gonna make me?"

Greg bit his lip and lined up his cock. He was so hard it hurt, if he didn't get off soon he'd spend the rest of the day regretting it.

"I said-" Sherlock began.

Greg shoved his prick into him and stuck three fingers in his mouth at the same time. Sherlock moaned around them and Greg cleared his throat to try to cover up the sound.

"Suck on my fingers, you little whore! You make a sound and you'll be on your own for the next month!" Greg said.

Sherlock whimpered, like he always did when Greg became truly forceful, and nodded. Greg pulled out and pushed back in. Sherlock purposefully tightened and Greg's legs almost gave out.

"You pushy little fuck!" Greg whispered. "You can't talk, so you find another way to drive me crazy! I think I should punish you for that! I don't think I should let you come today!"

Sherlock shook his head frantically.

"Oh, so you want to come?" Greg asked, slamming into Sherlock's body fast and hard.

Sherlock nodded and sucked harder. Greg chuckled and slowed his movements. Sherlock whined and Greg stopped altogether.

"I'm an old man, Sherlock. You've pointed that out a lot. I could go for hours. How about you, princess? How long before you start to hurt?" Greg asked.

Sherlock turned his head and whispered roughly around just the tips of his fingers. "I'll be good. Tell me what you want! I'll be good for you."

Greg smiled and shoved his fingers in all the way again. He started to fuck Sherlock again in slow movements, enough to keep them both going, but not enough to get the job done.

"Oh, now you want to be a good boy, huh? You act all high and mighty until I threaten, is that it? You need to be pushed around?" Greg demanded quietly.

Sherlock nodded and sucked, a trail of saliva dripping to his chin.

Greg sped up his motions, angling his hips upwards to hit Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock whimpered and started to moan around Greg's fingers.

"Oh, God, yes. Oh, fuck that's good. Tighten up for me baby, as much as you can." Greg whispered.

Sherlock did, becoming vice like around his cock. It was almost painful, but he wanted more. Sherlock, who knew, reached back and wrapped his forefinger and thumb around Greg's cock where it was entering him. That new pressure was what drove Greg over the edge. He fucked as hard as he could, feeling his cock squeeze through two tight rings of flesh, and gripped Sherlock's cock, letting the forward momentum jerk Sherlock off. Sherlock was moaning and grunting around Greg's fingers, and then stopped suddenly. Greg felt him spasm around his cock and drip come all over his hand. Greg pulled his hand out of Sherlock's mouth and leaned over him.

"You know what I want to hear! Say it!" Greg panted.

"I-I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered.

Greg came, thrusting in shallow little movements until he was spent.

When his breathing had evened out he pulled back and sat on the ground. Sherlock stood up and cleaned them both off before settling on the floor with his head in Greg's lap.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, rubbing the spit from his chin.

"I know." Greg said, gently running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "I know."


	6. Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a bad day. Greg makes it better.

Sherlock burst into the flat later that week, eyes wide and crazy. He sniffed the air and started pacing. Greg was on his feet in seconds, running his hands over his skin and checking for track marks. 

"I'm not high!" Sherlock shouted, eyes red rimmed and hinting towards tears. 

"Fine, sorry, habit, ok? What's wrong?" Greg asked. 

"Everything!" Sherlock shouted. 

"Sorry, Sher, you'll have to be more specific." Greg said, running his fingers through Sherlock's inky curls and watching him carefully. 

"Hmm, let's see. Lost my flat because of my snooping brother, street kid I've been helping get clean committed suicide, brain won't stop buzzing, and the only person I can ask for help is you. Do you know how guilty I feel having to ask you for help? Can you even understand how much of a failure I am? I get clean, I try to help others, I try to stay right and it's not enough. It's never enough." Sherlock said agitatedly. 

"Oh, come here." Greg said, pulling Sherlock close. "You're not a failure." 

"Yes I am, nothing I do goes right. I'm never good enough." Sherlock seethed. 

"Hey, you're good enough for me, okay. No one's ever good enough for themselves, but you are good enough for me. And you don't ever have to feel guilty for asking me for help. I want to help you, okay? Come to bed." Greg said, leading Sherlock to the bedroom. 

Greg sat Sherlock down on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt. Sherlock choked out a sob and tears ran down his face. 

"I just want to be good." Sherlock sobbed. "I just want to be good." 

Greg kissed his neck. "You are good. You are good." 

Sherlock let Greg slip his shirt off and stood up so he could remove his trousers and pants. When he was bare he knelt and lay his face against Lestrade's stomach. 

"I think I know what you need. You want to show me how good you are?" Greg asked. 

Sherlock nodded and Greg felt new tears well up and run down Sherlock's face. 

"On the bed with you." Greg said, voice changing to the almost patronizing tone you might use with a child. 

Sherlock scrambled to his feet and climbed onto the bed, laying face down and closing his eyes. 

"That's it, that's it." Greg cooed. 

Sherlock felt him run his fingers up his spine. He felt himself relax immediately. 

"You're gonna go easily tonight, aren't you?" Greg asked. 

Sherlock nodded, responses slowed a bit, and Greg smiled. 

"I'm gonna touch you now. I'm gonna rub a finger into you, and I want you to relax for me. Make it easy for me, okay?" Greg said. 

Sherlock nodded and he spanked him gently. 

"Yessir!" He whimpered. 

"That's my good boy." Greg said, getting the lube and spreading it over his fingers. 

He pulled Sherlock's cheeks apart and rubbed his forefinger at his hole. Sherlock whimpered and raised his hips. Greg rubbed his back soothingly and pressed in. Sherlock had relaxed wonderfully for him, and his finger met little resistance. 

"God, you're beautiful like this, my beautiful boy. Sweet boy. You just want to please, don't you, baby?" Greg asked, pumping his finger in and out. 

"Yes, daddy." Sherlock whispered. 

Greg took the hint and kissed his back gently. "Such a good boy for daddy." 

Sherlock keened and Greg pushed in a second finger. He kissed Sherlock's back more and the young man moaned and wriggled his hips.   
"Daddy will take care of you, buddy. Doesn't Daddy always take care of you?" Greg asked. 

"Yes!" Sherlock said. "Daddy's a good daddy!" 

"Yes, and I'm gonna make you feel so good." Greg replied. 

Sherlock shivered and sighed loudly. 

"How are you baby? Is that good? Talk to me." Greg prompted. 

"It's good, oh! Oh, that's good, papa. I want more. Can I have more daddy?" Sherlock asked. 

"Course, pet, what do you need?" Greg asked. 

"Our special thing, daddy, please, I'll be quiet." Sherlock whispered. 

Greg, who'd paid such little attention to himself that he forgot this was probably leading up to sex, felt his cock to find it more than willing. 

He slipped his fingers out of Sherlock's arse with a gorgeous pop and tore his shirt off. He wiped his hand on it and took off the rest of his clothes. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at him and Greg smiled at the curious look in his eyes. He grabbed the lube and walked to the head of the bed, sitting with his back against the head board and beconning Sherlock closer. 

"Come up and bounce on daddy. I want to see your face, love." He said quietly. 

Sherlock got up slowly and moved towards him, crawling on hands and knees and making Greg suddenly quite aware of his aching errection. Sherlock seemed unaware of his own provocative nature, and just swayed his hips lazily. Those were always the times when Greg knew Sherlock had stopped thinking. When the little innocent boy he was playing swayed his hips like the real sex God he was. 

Greg pulled him in for a kiss when he was close enough and held his cock straight so he could slip down. Sherlock sucked all the air out of Greg's mouth on the way down, and it took a moment for him to answer. 

"Sherlock?" Greg tried for the third time. 

"Mmm." Sherlock said, eyes sliding open. 

"There you are." Greg replied gently. 

"Oh." Sherlock whispered as he started to move. "Oh, please." 

"That's my boy, that's my good boy!" Greg said a bit louder. "Fuck yourself on me. Make yourself feel good." 

Sherlock pulled off slowly and then slid back down. His voice was trembling now, breath shaking out of him. 

"Oh! Oh!" Sherlock shouted. 

Greg smiled at his inability to stay in character. "Good boy, get loud, gorgeous boy!" 

"Oh, yes! Fuck! Oh, God, right there!" Sherlock shouted, eyes clenched closed and bottom lip trembling. 

"What do you need?" Greg asked. "I know you're close, what do you need?" 

Sherlock grabbed Greg's hand and tried to wrap it around his own cock as he bounced up and down quickly. Greg chuckled and started stroking him in time with his movements. He was close himself, never needing too long when Sherlock was enjoying himself, and as he felt Sherlock start to lose control he began thrusting up into him. 

"Good boy, come!" He said. 

Sherlock shuddered and came hard, cock pulsing in Greg's fist and arsehole twitching around his prick. Greg lasted three more thrusts, and then lay against the wall limply as Sherlock squirmed and whined. 

"Good, good boy." Greg murmured. 

Sherlock slumped against his chest and tried to slow his breathing. Greg stroked his head and kissed his cheek. After a few moments Sherlock got up on shaky knees and sprawled himself out on the bed. Greg smiled and went to get a flannel to clean them up. 

Sherlock was fast asleep by the time he got back. He wiped Sherlock clean and pulled the covers up over them, holding him against his chest and kissing his shoulder. 

"Good boy." He whispered.


	7. You're A Mess, Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely megabat! Brilliant prompt!

Greg thrust deeply into Sherlock, making him whimper loudly with every rough movement. He bit down on his shoulder just how Sherlock liked it and the younger man moaned his name. 

"Come!" Greg demanded. 

Sherlock started to clench around him, and then...Greg's mobile rang. The bloody mobile. He should toss it in the Thames. He swore to God he could see a switch get flipped in Sherlock's brain. 

"You should really answer that." Sherlock said calmly. 

"And you should really come." Greg replied angrily. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and reached for the bedside table. 

"Graham Lestrade's mobile." He said. "Yes, good, good. No, saying good about a murder isn't psychopathic! Yes we're fucking. Yes right-" 

Greg grabbed the mobile away and rang off without another word. 

"What in the hell was that?" He demanded. 

"Thought that was quite obvious, Lestrade." Sherlock replied, resting up on his elbows. "Now if you don't mind, we have a case, and you know my rules about having sex." 

Greg stared dumbfounded. This couldn't be happening. This seriously could not be happening. He was just dreaming, this was just the stress of the job effecting his mental stability. 

"I need to shower, off." Sherlock said. 

Greg smiled. His smile held such wickedness that Sherlock found himself a bit frightened. 

"Stay." He growled. 

Sherlock, although he wanted to get up and shower, stayed put. Greg went to the closet and searched for something. He pulled out a large black chest with simple metal clasps and opened it, positioning himself so Sherlock couldn't see into it. When he walked back to the bed Sherlock saw a long plug in his hands. 

"Greg, what's that for?" Sherlock asked. 

"I suppose it's to remind you that you can't just turn off my sex drive. You seem to be able to, mid fuck, but it's almost impossible for the rest of-" Greg began. 

"Your erection seems to be flagging, so-" Sherlock interrupted. 

"Shut your damn mouth. Please, just stop talking." Greg said. "You know your safe word. If you think you can't handle walking around the crime scene with this shoved up you feel free to use it." 

Sherlock snorted in response and spread his legs. 

"Mind over matter, Lestrade. You should try it some time."

Greg breathed in several times to steady himself and then lubed up the plug and inserted it into Sherlock's arsehole with care. He may want to torture Sherlock, possibly kill him even, but he didn't want to hurt him. Sherlock smiled smugly and got up to shower. Greg shook his head and slipped a small battery powered remote in his trouser pocket. 

\-----

Sherlock walked onto the crime scene with the kind of obnoxious certainty that everyone had come to expect. Sally made her way over to Greg, anger evident on her face. 

"Don't say it, Donovan. What ever you were planning on saying, don't bloody say it." Greg said, hoping to cut off the tirade threatening to spill from her. 

"Sir, I really think-" She began. 

"Do you though, Donovan? I'd venture to say you're using the word 'think' a bit broadly." Sherlock said snidely from behind her. 

She spun and glared daggers at his scowling face. Greg stepped behind them and asked Sherlock to tell them his findings. He did so without losing the scowl and when he'd finished he and Donovan were in an all out fight. Greg dragged him to the car and they drove to the station. 

Once they were back in Greg's office he was about to talk to Sherlock about his deplorable behavior when the younger man spoke. 

"Four hours seventeen minutes, and I'm still not desperate for you. I told you I could-"

Sherlock yelped when the plug inside him started to vibrate. Greg smiled and pulled the remote out of his pocket. Sherlock eyes grew wide. 

"Th-that's cheating!" He exclaimed. 

"Never said I'd play fair." Greg growled as he stalked towards Sherlock. He turned the nob up and rubbed his thigh against Sherlock's groin as the man's mouth fell open and he started panting. "What's the matter, Sher? Just focus, remember? Mind over matter." Greg whispered. 

"Please, Greg, I'll be good, just let me come!" Sherlock begged. 

"You do know how I love it when you beg." Greg said with a glint in his eye. 

"Please, pretty pretty please! I'll suck you, I'll do the laundry for two weeks, I'll let you tie me up for as long as you like just FOR GOD'S SAKE LET ME COME!" The last bit was muffled by Greg's hand, but he understood it perfectly. 

"Come." Greg whispered. 

Sherlock came with a shout and Greg undid his trousers, pulled out his own cock and stroked himself quickly while pushing Sherlock against the wall. He came seconds later on the front of Sherlock's already damp slacks. Sherlock was whimpering. 

"Please turn it off, I'm sorry." He said. 

Greg switched it off and tucked himself back in. He took Sherlock in his arms, careful to keep his own trousers clean, and rocked him back and forth. Sherlock whimpered and bit but then settled wonderfully. When Greg finally pulled back he was composed. 

"You're a mess love, maybe you should head home." Greg suggested. 

Sherlock just nodded and wrapped his coat around him to cover the semen running down his front. Greg sat at his desk to do the paperwork with a wonderful kind of calm.


	8. Fill Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you read this one in private, my lovelies, it's a bit......descriptive.

When Greg got home that night Sherlock was sitting on the couch, eyes vacant, unmoving. He knew he'd made a mistake instantaneously. He sighed and took off his jacket, then walked to the couch and sat next to the young man. 

"Sherlock, are you alright?" He asked, trying for comforting but sounding instead quite worried. 

Sherlock didn't respond. This was a mess, and he'd caused it. Sure Sherlock had been a prat, but he knew better than to send Sherlock off without enough aftercare. He'd sent Sherlock home vulnerable, and when Sherlock was vulnerable he needed to not be alone. Greg knew that. He was just happy that the he didn't appear to be high. 

He gathered Sherlock up in his arms and walked him to the loo, made sure he was sat comfortably on the lid of the toilet and went to get him clothes. Sherlock had his own drawers now. He'd planned on getting a new flat after Mycroft's surveillance meant he was kicked out of his last one, but he'd stored his stuff here and never left. 

Greg had been meaning to ask him if he wanted to move in, but was worried that that would break the spell. He didn't know if he could live without Sherlock in his bed every (okay, almost every) night. It was a bit difficult living with Sherlock, but that was infinitely better than living alone. 

He grabbed the pajamas and walked back in to start a bath. Sherlock was still glassy eyed, but Greg knew he could hear him. He could always hear him when he was in his 'mind palace', but it seemed to be on some sort of delay. He'd respond to questions a day late, or start up a conversation Greg was trying to have some time before without any lead in. 

"I'm sorry I sent you home. I thought you would tell me if that made you uncomfortable, but I know it's hard when you're still coming back to yourself. I didn't mean to make you feel alone, and I'm sorry if I did. I love you, and you're never not wanted. And yes, I know that's a double negative, hold your tongue." Greg said while rubbing Sherlock's back. 

The tub filled quickly and he helped Sherlock undress and get in. It was like trying to get a child who was sleepwalking back into bed. Sherlock didn't look up at all and Greg had to slip in behind him to get him to relax. The moment his back touched Greg's chest he started to shake. 

"Oh, love, I'm sorry." Greg said, rubbing his chest gently. 

Sherlock stayed quiet through the rest of the bath, letting Greg clean him slowly. Greg tried to not get hard, but a slippery Sherlock pressed against you is a bit much. He was soaping up Sherlock's arms when he felt the younger man move his hips. He stifled a moan and almost choked on his own saliva. He continued to clean. Mustn't get distracted. 

Sherlock rolled his hips again, and this time Greg moaned out loud, feeling his prick twitch with interest. Sherlock whimpered and did it again. Greg ran his hand down Sherlock's arms and moved to his stomach. He rubbed across his firm stomach and kissed his neck. 

"Let's go to bed." Greg suggested. 

He helped Sherlock out of the bath and dried him off, then walked him to the bedroom and lay him down. He lay next to him and reached over to tweak a nipple. 

Sherlock shuddered. "Yes. Oh." 

Greg moved his fingers lower, feeling the downy hair on his abdomen grow more coarse as he moved lower. Sherlock bucked his hips when Greg scratched his fingers through his pubic hair. Greg pulled slightly and he hissed and then moaned deeply from the pain. 

"That's my little pain slut." Greg whispered. 

Sherlock whimpered and Greg moved lower, running his fingers around the base of his cock and down to his bollocks. He squeezed gently and Sherlock thrust his hips back so Greg involuntarily pulled roughly on them. 

"Pushy little prat. Why can't you just ask for what you want?" Greg teased. 

"I want you to treat me like the dirty whore I am. I want you to use me." Sherlock hissed. 

Greg hesitated. He wasn't sure that he should be playing this kind of game when Sherlock was so fragile. Sometimes Sherlock delved a bit too deep into self hate, letting the scene bleed into real life. Sherlock's brain was a little like Pandora's box, once he started down one road it was almost impossible to turn back. 

"How about you be my favorite student? Hmm? Let's leave the other one for a different day." Greg whispered. 

Sherlock began to protest and Greg stroked his cock. Sherlock moaned and threw his head back. 

"Come on, love, who knows best?" Greg prompted. 

"You do, Greg, you do." Sherlock replied. 

"And I'll always look out for you..." Greg whispered. 

"Even when I don't want you to." Sherlock finished. 

"That's better. You're such a naughty boy. Following me home. Bet you didn't think you'd end up in my bed." Greg teased. 

"No sir...but I've thought about this, you touching me..." Sherlock whimpered. 

"Mmm. Tell me, lad, what did you imagine?" Greg asked, stroking Sherlock's cock gently and bending down to lick at the head. 

"Oh, fuck!" Sherlock hollered. 

Greg slapped his bollocks, something Sherlock had to beg him to do the first time. 

"Language." He snapped. 

"Sorry, Mr, Lestrade, sir." Sherlock exclaimed. 

"Tell. Me." Greg demanded, going back to licking at Sherlock's cock. 

"I, um, I touch myself at night when I think of you. I think about you singling me out and making me strip in front of the class. I think about how humiliating it would be, and how I'd want to cry with shame." Sherlock babbled. 

"Go on." Greg said, pulling away and then taking in most of the younger man's shaft. 

"Oh! I, um, think about you making me open myself up in front of everyone so that you could shove your fat cock into me." Sherlock moaned. 

Greg pulled away quickly and Sherlock whined when he stood and walked from the room. Greg returned with something in his hand. It was fairly small and black. Sherlock's heart sped up when he saw it was a camcorder. 

Greg opened it and pressed a few buttons, setting it on the dresser and walking to the far wall. He pulled the full length mirror over and placed it under the camera and opposite the bed. He had Sherlock stand up, and sat down. 

"You're gonna sit in my lap and open yourself. You're gonna watch yourself in the mirror so you know how you'll look when I run back the film later. If you're good I'll let you fuck yourself on me. If you're bad I'll fuck you and not let you come. Understood, Holmes?" Greg asked wickedly. 

Sherlock sat in his lap and blushed furiously when he saw himself in the mirror. His pupils were blown wide and he already looked completely wrecked. Greg handed him a bottle of lubricant and he slicked up a few fingers. A large drop of precome fell lazily from his slit. 

Greg spread his legs and watched intently as Sherlock reached between his own legs and pushed a finger into his arsehole. The look on his face was almost panicked. Greg took hold of his cock and stroked slowly. Sherlock closed his eyes and pushed another in. 

"No." Greg chided. "You have to watch yourself. Look how much of a little slag you are. Fingers up your own arse, knuckle deep and keening." 

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he whimpered before starting to thrust the two fingers in and out. He glanced at Greg over his shoulder and was glad to see this was affecting him too. 

"That's it, are you ready for me now?" Greg asked, finding himself not able to wait any longer. 

Sherlock nodded quickly and Greg slapped his thigh. "Up you go, lad." 

Sherlock complied, watching Greg lean back and hold his prick out. He hesitated for a second and Greg grinned. He knew what he was thinking. 

"Shouldn't we use a condom, sir?" He asked, voice wavering. 

"Why, have you been sleeping around? I've seen how you look at the rugby team. Do they all get a turn?" Greg asked teasingly. 

Sherlock blushed harder. "No sir." 

"Fine then, sit on my cock." Greg demanded. 

Sherlock nodded and turned, lowering himself slowly into Greg's lap. He'd only used two fingers so he was still tight. He wanted to pretend that this was his first time. That his first time involved coercion and Lestrade. Greg's prick felt like it wouldn't fit. 

"Oh, fuck, that's good. You're bloody tight, little virgin hole. Does it feel good, me taking this from you? Will you remember this, always?" Greg asked, pushing his cock that small bit further in. 

Sherlock grunted and relaxed around Greg. "Yes sir, Mr Lestrade, sir." 

"Move."

Sherlock rested his hands on either side of Greg's thighs and lifted himself up, pushing back down roughly and setting up a quick rhythm. 

"Oh, oh god. Oh, that's good. Oh, you're so big." Sherlock whined. 

"Look at yourself. Look at you taking my cock. Fuck, you're lovely. I bet you could take two cocks if you really tried. Is that what you want, to be open and sore, so when you're in my class come Monday you can't look up at me without remembering me in you." Greg said. 

"Oh, yes, oh, please, sir!" Sherlock begged. 

"Please what, lad?" Greg asked, shoving up into him. 

"Can you...can we lay on the bed and have you take me from behind." Sherlock asked. 

Greg growled and nodded. Sherlock pulled off with a moan and got on the bed on his hands and knees. Greg got up behind him and pushed his prick in quickly. They both moaned loudly and Greg pressed down with his hand between Sherlock's shoulder blades until his face was pushed into the bed. 

He pounded into him hard and fast, grunting and sweating. Sherlock's hole gripped him tightly and the younger man started whimpering over and over again. Greg dug his fingers into Sherlock's hips and fucked him so hard it almost hurt. 

"Fuck, that's it, hot little hole for me. You know what the camera's getting right now? It's getting my fat cock slamming into your tight hole. God, you've got such a sweet little hole, feel it just gobble me up? Feel it suck me into that fucking heat? Feel it grip around me and beg to be filled?" Greg asked, feeling his orgasm approaching with wicked speed. 

"Yes, sir, please shove it in me. Right there, fill me up! Oh, God, fill me up!" Sherlock shouted through gasps. 

Greg reached down and stuck first one and then the other thumb in next to his cock. Sherlock's hole tightened around them and he started to whine. He pulled gently at the sides of Sherlock's hole and then moved them up and down quickly, tickling his own cock in the most delicious way. 

He dug his nails into the skin of Sherlock's cheeks and Sherlock started to come, shouting Greg's name, wiggling his arse back and forth and thrusting against nothing. Greg pressed the knuckles of his thumbs against his shaft and came at the feeling of pressure on both sides. His hips thrust in short movements of their own accord until he was milked dry. 

He pulled out and fell to Sherlock's side. The camera kept rolling as they slept for six hours in each other's arms.


	9. You're A Bloody Menace, Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pwp. Aw yisss!

When Sherlock woke it was to Greg's raspy voice. He was sat up in bed next to him calling in sick. 

"Must be the flu. Been sick all morning. Mmhmm. Yeah. Ta. Yeah." Greg said before ringing off. 

"Liar." Sherlock said, running his hand up Greg's soft stomach to tweak a nipple. 

"Jesus!" Greg shouted. 

"What would your superiors think if they knew you were calling in sick just so you could stay home and fuck me?" Sherlock purred, leaning up to lick at and then blow on the nipple he wasn't already playing with.

"I'm staying-oh-home to take care of you! The possible absolutely wicked sex we'll have is incidental." Greg replied, already out of breath. 

He really didn't know how Sherlock could do that to him. Thirty seconds of attention from him had Greg gasping and gripping the sheets. Forty five and he was gagging for it. Christ, that fucking tongue. 

Sherlock slid up and straddled Greg, rubbing his already hardening cock against Greg's pulsing erection. God it felt good. Fuck. He rolled his hips and Greg almost bit off his own tongue. His jaw snapped closed and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

"Do you think the camera's still rolling, Mr Lestrade?" He asked, licking up Greg's neck. 

"N-n-no." Greg replied truthfully. 

Sherlock nipped at his earlobe gently. "Can we pretend it is?" 

"Oh, God yes!" Greg said breathlessly. 

"Oh, Mr Lestrade! I know how you hate it when I mouth off in class. Maybe you should shut me up." Sherlock said with a whimper. 

Greg didn't know if it was real or not, but at this point he couldn't care less. Having a hot writhing Sherlock on top of him sent most of his higher functionality out the window. 

"I think-think that's a good idea. Perhaps you'd like to put that mouth to better use." Greg replied, trying and almost succeeding in getting control over his vocal cords. 

"And what, dear professor, would you like me to do?" Sherlock asked, batting his eyelashes playfully. 

"Oh, God. You ever sucked a cock before, lad?" Greg said after clearing his throat. 

"No, sir. But I can try." Sherlock said, shimmying eagerly down Greg's legs and settling between his knees. 

Greg didn't have time to form a response before Sherlock had the head of his cock between his lips. He sucked almost experimentally at it and that sent a shock of arousal straight through Greg's body. He reached down to stroke Sherlock's hair and those gorgeous mercurial eyes glanced up at him. 

"Oh! Good lad! That's it! Not too much, don't choke yourself." Greg said, trying to play along. 

Sherlock swallowed him all the way down until Greg felt his cock slip into his throat, bloody bastard. And like that, Greg was coming, pulsing down Sherlock's throat and digging his nails into his palms. 

Sherlock pulled off with a grin and stroked his cock, pulling at the ruddy head and coming quite quickly all over Greg's stomach. 

"Fucking Christ! That was absurd!" Greg chuckled. 

Sherlock bent forward and licked a stripe through his own come. Greg's cock let out one final drop of white fluid and Sherlock smiled wider. 

"Get over here, you mad bastard!" Greg said, wiping himself off and pulling Sherlock close. 

"Was I good for you?" Sherlock asked. 

"Shut up, you brat, you damn well know you were. I swear, if I stroke that ego of yours anymore it'll come. You're a bloody menace, Sherlock Holmes!" Greg said, chuckling and running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. 

Greg was falling back asleep when he heard Sherlock whisper 'but I'm your menace'. He hummed agreement and fell quickly back to sleep.


End file.
